


her dumb sweet cavalier

by melodies_from_beyond



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Gore, Horror, Jealousy, don't touch harrow's things or you'll regret it, harrow is a bit of a stalker, harrow is suspicious of everything, harrow is too overprotective, might be considered spoilers for Harrow the Ninth?, possessive harrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodies_from_beyond/pseuds/melodies_from_beyond
Summary: Harrow catches Gideon and Dulcinea alone together and is not happy about it.May contain spoilers for Harrow the Ninth.
Relationships: Gideon Nav & Dulcinea Septimus, Gideon Nav & Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	her dumb sweet cavalier

There she was; your dumb sweet cavalier, kneeling in front of the invalid necromancer of the Seventh, Dulcinea Septimus. 

In the decaying garden, the two of them made a curious scene, the dappled sunlight setting Nav’s red hair alight, the faded, dry stone fountains and withered plants surrounding them making them both look like strange little dolls shoved wantonly together by a pair of young children in that oblivious way that only very young children do; Nav in solid black, Septimus in a gauzy gown and an absurdly large white hat. 

Gideon’s robe was pushed low on her arms, displaying her shoulders in a way that you bitterly suspected was Septimus’ doing. You cavalier sat demurely on her heels, the same way she knelt in the nude before you in your suite during your nights together nights, her hands clasped on her thighs. Lounging in her wheelchair, Septimus wore a barely-there seafoam green gown that flowed down to her ankles, and even from this far away you could see the slight curves of her body - which you also suspected as being intentional, as this was not the first time your cav had slipped away make moon eyes at the dying necro.

Your simmering distrust rose up to a boil. What did the Seventh have planned up their frivolous sleeves, to desire the company of the Ninth? And why did she choose your idiot cavalier, instead of  _ you?  _ They all knew you were the head of the Ninth, the Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, and all matters pertaining to House relations were to be brought to you. It didn’t sit right in the pit of your stomach, Septimus with your cavalier, tucked away in one of the countless forgotten decrepit gardens. 

Septimus reached a spindly hand down, gently patting your cavalier’s red hair, oblivious to the bitter contempt, the blinding  _ rage _ igniting in your gut. You picked up the fleeting voice of the invalid necromancer from where you observed, lingering like a wraith in the doorway, your logical mind clouding from the blazing inferno of your jealousy.

You fought the lightning-like white hot urge to lengthen your metacarpals into foot-long bone blades from your knuckles and bury them in the Seventh’s invalidly pretty body.  _ How dare she touch Nav like that,  _ you thought, your metacarpals buzzing in anticipation, already adding solid layers right under the papery skin on your knuckles. Your skin split open as the blades constructed themselves almost as if they had their own free will.

Seeing Gideon like that with another necromancer, a necromancer who wasn’t you, undoubtedly making moon-eyes at that horrid Seventh woman-child, shriveled up the last pitiful crumbs of your desire to share her with  _ anyone.  _

You dropped a phalange on the ground, a perfect skeletal arm unfolding where it fell, and you brought your boot down, fuelled with rage,  _ hard _ , shattering the ulna and radius simultaneously with a stomach-churning  _ snap.  _

This is how you chose to announce your presence, intending to plant fear into the Seventh and make her  _ stay the fuck away from your cavalier _ .

Your breast heaved in exertion as Nav whipped her head around in surprise, her face flushed under her skull paint, and her expression shifting to raw horror as your bone blades registered in her brain. She’d never seen you quite like  _ this  _ before. A stripe of tan skin was visible on her cheekbone, indicative of a small finger smoothing the monochrome paint to reveal the bare prize underneath.  _ Septimus’s doing, no doubt about it _ .

You distantly heard Septimus’ light tinkling laugh, _amused_ at your company, but wanted nothing more than to murder her on the spot; butchering her until she was little more than a pulp of splintered, shattered bones and desiccated brains and bloody chunks of meat sprayed across the ancient faded walls.

Your cavalier was  _ yours _ , and she was  _ yours alone. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> more scenes from Gideon the Ninth but told from Harrow's perspective in the works. Second person POV is interesting and I'm curious to see what I can do with it.
> 
> Thank you to the People's Tomb discord for all their ideas and support. You guys mean a lot to me.


End file.
